Wildest dreams
by Lilyrosebelle
Summary: "I probably looked like one of those kids who were repetitively told not to eat the cookies because they were too hot and still cried when they took a bite and it burned their mouths."-Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams


_**A/N: Hey, guess who's computer is finally fixed? I came back from the dead! So I am practically obsessed with Taylor Swift's new video so I decide to turn it into a story, a sad story which made me hate myself a little, but I still like it. I hope you do too.**_

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 _"Say you'll remember me  
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe  
Red lips and rosy cheeks  
Say you'll see me again even if it's just pretend"_

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Getting in the car, I felt so stupid for letting the tears run down my face…I probably looked like one of those kids who were repetitively told not to eat the cookies because they were too hot and still cried when they took a bite and it burned their mouths.

Yes, a foolish child was my best comparison…it fitted my situation so tragically beautiful.

It fitted so well because the child knows the cookie is hot, but he still doesn't expect to get burned by it. Because of that, he is always surprised when he feels the need to spit the cookie out, because is too hot, because he shouldn't have eaten it in the first place.

But we all know he is going to do it again…

I knew everything was going to end like that, I knew it, but I thought, for just one second, that maybe it wouldn't. I thought that maybe I was the exception, that maybe I stood a chance against the world, that maybe, just this time… maybe I would win for once…

That second was enough…more than enough…

Of course, another second was also enough for me to realize how hot the cookie actually was…but it came too late.

So, yeah, I felt stupid because I actually was.

But I didn't sob, my voice didn't break and I didn't bite my lower lip trying not to scream…I owed myself at least that.

The tears were enough for me. They were the only thing I had to give. I had nothing else anymore…And I would never have…

I knew they were ruining my face, my makeup and my dignity, but I let them do so…

My tears were wet and unstoppable…they were stronger than I had ever been…that fancy waterproof makeup didn't stand a chance against them…

But I shouldn't have cried…they didn't expect me to cry.

I was the sweetheart, the one with the beautiful smile and gentle eyes. I wasn't supposed to cry. I was supposed to be happy, even if I wasn't. I was supposed to be happy for another happiness not for my own. I was supposed to be the one who loses gracefully, who likes to stay in the background and clap my hands for the winner…because the winner was never me.

I was supposed to be that person…and I was…and I liked it.

Nobody mentioned I couldn't bleed though…And because my wound wasn't an open one I had chosen the next option…

So I was still the sweetheart, the second place, the perfect one. But maybe, just maybe, I was a little broken…Not that they had to know…ever. I knew it and it was enough, possibly too much.

The first time I saw him broke me…and I embraced that.

For once being broken was a good thing and I liked that because God knows there wasn't enough duck tape in the world to put me back together.

So I knew how it was going to end, even before it had a chance to begin, but that never stopped me.

All because he smiled. I wouldn't have driven on that dead end street if it wasn't for that smile.

A smile that saved me by killing me softly.

Maybe that's the reason so many people commit suicide…because is like coming home especially when you don't really have one.

So I smiled back, ready to be home.

And that's how I died...

I had to pretend to love him and he had to pretend to love me. And we did, we pretended like it was our job, because in fact it was.

The only problem was that he pretended too well and eventually I didn't pretend at all.

But looking at him from afar was all I could do, all that I was brave enough to do, because no matter what the stories said, the endings weren't always happy and the beginnings weren't always possible. So why bother, right?

To be honest I do not know when it all began, when I truly accepted the fantasy, when I started to believe in something…in him. Maybe it was when he caught me staring and I was forced to look into those blue eyes and I was drowning, cursing myself for the fact that I had never learned to swim. Maybe it was when he god rid of that spider web from my hair, because I was dump enough to get into it in the first place, and I thought my cheeks were gonna burst into flames. Maybe it was when I forgot my lines and he pretended to do the same, just to be both yelled at. Maybe it was the first time he fake-kissed me and he didn't even care that my smudged red lipstick stained his beautiful lips. Maybe it was when he kept trying to make me laugh with those dad jokes, because, in his opinion, laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world and he liked mine, which always came with a pair of rosy cheeks.

Maybe…But it most likely started when we both realized it wasn't real. Probably it was when we understood that we were far away from reality, away from the big crowds, away from the curious people, away from the mean ones. It was when the cages and the boxes became too little for us…

Yes, maybe it all started there, or maybe it all just started…just like that…from nothing.

All because he was special, and rare, and different from what he should have been. All because he was nice, and stubborn, and funny. All because he didn't try to be in any way…he just was and nothing more.

So I don't know when it all began and I never would…But at some point the fake-kisses didn't feel that fake and my knees never felt that weak. At some point I wasn't the only one staring, but I could always feel when his eyes were on me, because those were the only times when I felt my back burning no matter what temperature it was. At some point his touch wasn't just an accidental brush anymore, it was soft, and it was warm, and it was welcomed. At some point we didn't care about the reality or about any mortal's rule…

I saw the memories even through my tears, they followed everywhere I went…I was haunted.

I was haunted by his lips and how they touched my own, how they kissed my jaw, how they bruised my neck. I was haunted by his voice and by how he pronounce my name, how he used to whisper in my ear and how he laughed, so pure and innocent, like a little kid.

I remember the beautiful red dress and how my black hair was dancing around my shoulders…I remember thinking something about my mom and slightly trembling from the evening's cold when I felt his favorite jacket covering my almost bare shoulders. I knew from the start it was his, because it smelled like him, like happiness and joy, and when I felt his hands around me I didn't even twitch, I just leaned back in the crook of his neck and, with my eyes closed, I could still feel how the sun was setting and how its warmth disappeared too soon… just like he did.

I remember the sound our car made when it broke down in the middle of nowhere and how we had to wait for the others to come and get us. His eyes were matching the sky that day and his lips tasted like whipped cream, because of that piece of cake he had stolen from me. He chased after me that day. We were like kids playing tag and for a moment I thought I was a bird, all wild and free, and when he caught me and lifted me up it felt a little bit like flying. The car wasn't a good bed and the horn worked perfectly fine and it honked every time my back hit the wheel, but he chuckled and I did the same.

I remember when my flesh hurt from his grip, just because someone else looked at me. Just because of one look, one touch and a few words I didn't care about…just because it reminded him who he was…or who he wasn't… He barely looked at me that day, he barely talked and he barely smiled…I was barely alive that day…But at night, in the dark he didn't yell and he didn't cry…he didn't even talked…He just grabbed my shoulders so tight that for a moment I thought his fingernails were going to pierce my clothes…and my skin. He kissed me until his lips hurt and beyond that. He didn't care if I kissed him back or not, if I could breath or not, if his pain got to me or not. But I knew he did, he cared even when he didn't. My lips were swollen and my shirt was ruined. But I kissed him back and I threw away the shirt...

I remember too well when I yelled at him, and cried, and pushed him away in front of everybody. And they stared, and they had questions, and I did not care. For the first time, what they thought was insignificant compared to my own pain. The reason why I was so angry would remain a mystery for all the eternity…I couldn't remember it, or I didn't want to. My little fists kept hitting his chest when he came running after me and when he grabbed my wrists with his big hand, I realized I was sobbing. I had never broken down in front of anybody (I learned that from my father), but the tone of his voice, the way my name sounded when he whispered it, the way his eyes were watery, made me throw everything out the window.

' _Hinata'_ he whispered and I lost it, because his voice was warm and concerned and he cared. He wasn't real, but he cared and somehow it was enough…

I never knew why he cared, why he hugged me so gentle, why he noticed I existed in the first place.

Perhaps he was attracted to my character, the one I was playing the one he fake-kissed all that time, because she wasn't me. She wasn't fragile and she never stuttered. She wasn't me and I wasn't her. But he still touched my lips with his thump when I looked up to him and we locked eyes. He still told me jokes and made a fool of himself just to hear me laugh and to do that silly dance when he succeeded. He was still there even though I didn't understood why… I was too afraid to ask.

Still, no matter the heat, no matter the lust, we never had sex…we only made love. Sometimes it was slow and gentle and other times it was fast and rough…but it was always love, not sex.

Sometimes he bruised my skin with his teeth and sometimes his hands caressed my body. His kisses always made me tremble, his hands always make me moan and when he whispered in my ear, his voice sent a shiver through my spine. We often synchronized and our voices had to be kept down so our mouths craved for each other. Other times one of us fell apart faster than the other. When that happened he always pressed his lips on my neck sucking it or biting it and leaving a pretty big mark that was extremely difficult to cover. When I was the one who went down first I always felt the urge to touch him, to be even closer to him...My hands around his neck or my head buried in his chest or me kissing some piece of his skin just to feel the heat…Once when I couldn't hold it in anymore I dug my nails deep into his back and I couldn't even look him in the eyes in the morning, but he kissed my red cheeks, and he laughed telling me how cute I was, and his back healed shortly…

We weren't real, but I told him real things and he did too…

At night when we were both sweaty and laying in the bed, when our glasses were empty, when his clothes were all over my room and my hair was all over the pillow I told him about the time I got lost in the hospital when I was 6 and he told me how he used to have this weird dream about these foxes with a lot of tails when he was little. He told me about the time he broke his foot and his arm and some other bones fighting with his best friend and I told him about my sister's teddy bear and how I used to wake up in the middle of the night with her tiny body in my arms when she had nightmares.

I even told him about my father, about his rules, about his pride and about his weird way of loving me. I described my mother as detailed as I could have remembered and I made a fool of myself trying to sing that old lullaby who was stuck in my brain but unable to get out of my mouth. I told him how much I adored Hanabi and how much I treasured Neji. I told him all sorts of things and memories that nobody had ever known. I told him things not even realizing I was saying them, like how I tried to run away from home and how disappointed I was when I got back and no one had noticed that I had been gone…I told him secrets…

He told me about his favorite school teacher, about how he understood him, about how he was like him in some ways. He described to me in vivid details the pranks he used to pull, how everybody would get so angry at him for that and how he was so thrilled when they did it because they knew he existed. He told me how strongly he believed in people and how strongly he cared for them. He told me all kinds of things, like how he didn't thought bad people actually existed or how much he worshiped some people name Kushina and Minato and how he called them mom and dad even if he had only saw them in an old picture…He told me secrets…

We were a fantasy and we talked about real things…but we never talked about love.

Why? I didn't know, I didn't ask…maybe I didn't care at some point…

Why talk about things you know the answer to?

We never talked about love, not once…there was never an 'I love you'…he never said it to me and I never said it to him…I just said it to myself quietly while he was sound asleep next to me all naked and beautiful. I only wanted to know how it would have sounded like, how my mouth would have formed the words and how I would have breathed out his name…like something sacred and out of reach…like he was somehow mine to keep…

But as hard as it seemed, as hard as it was, I just held my breath and believed in that, in something endless and unspeakable…

That was my biggest mistake…I believed…

I believed that there was nothing more to life than soaking in the sunrise and drowning in the sunset…

I believed that his eyes were my safe heaven…

I believed a lie…

It all lasted until the last scene, when the light went out and the cameras were turned off….unfortunately I lasted more than that.

The echoes came through the paper walls and the real world caught us from behind. The big night was finally ending and so were all the kisses. The soft ones and the wild ones. The ones in the rain, with our clothes dripping wet and his hands all tangled in my soaked hair after midnight and the lazy ones, in the bed, with clothes on the floor before sunrise. The fake ones and the real ones. The ones before making love and the ones after making love. The ones on the forehead, the ones on the lips, the ones on the neck, the ones behind the ear, the one that touched every portion of my skin…They were all over. No more of his kisses, no more of his eyes, no more of him…The curtain was finally falling and I wasn't ready for the final bow, because that meant that I had been acting in the first place, that nothing had actually been real…

Some foolish part of me thought that we were never gonna turn to dust…that was so wrong…

 _Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…_

I accepted that with fake smiles in public and wet tears on my pillow…I accepted it.

So I still wore the silver dress, I still curled the long hair and I still painted the lips red.

Holding my fears tight and being blinded by the camera flashes I touch the red carpet with my high heel shoes…I was so innocent, so stupid…I smiled…

Then I saw him again… And for the time I had left, I pretended that the reality hadn't struck yet…I smiled longing for our mute dance with no music or words, when my head was on his bare chest listening to that good heart of his…I smiled…

But I saw her after that…I didn't smile anymore…

That was the other second which was enough…That was when I felt the heat of the cookie burning my mouth…

She was so perfect, she really was…

Standing there, smiling softly in that gorgeous black dress, looking at him with that sparking and gentle green eyes and tickling his skin with that mesmerizing pink hair…She was perfect.

I couldn't even feel angry when her lips touched his for a brief moment. I couldn't feel betrayed or sad…I didn't have the right to…I couldn't hate her…she was so perfect.

She was perfect and I was nothing…I faded…

But, when her left hand touched his cheek and her diamond ring shined from the lights, I felt naked…

Unconsciously I hid my left hand behind my back…My fingers were naked…especially one of them…

He had never given me anything…except his lips, his eyes, his touches, his smile and his beautiful soul…but she had all of those things already.

I was naked…I was finally awake…

He probably saw me, but I didn't fake a smile…I couldn't, not with him…Nothing of me, not even a small part of my being had ever been fake with him…

So I stood there… near him, near her, near others, while the blitzes kept immortalizing my awakening moment…

So I stood there all dressed up with my heart messed up, realizing what I knew right from the start... Because only then it hit me… maybe there was a possibility that we had pretended all along, maybe we were fiction, maybe we had only played house and it was finally the time for us to put the toys down and go to bed.

So I stood there…trying to find the rewind button…

Later, in the dark, when they were all watching our fake kisses, she was still perfect and his soul was still beautiful…and I was still broken…

I didn't have the right, but I did it…My head turned and his too…

I had to fall into his eyes again to retrieve my peace of mind.

I had to memorize that shade of blue so I wouldn't have to see it again.

I had to get out…

So I did and they were too focused on the falsity to notice…

He had never been mine, he had never made me laugh, he had never seen me cry, he had never saved me, he had never been my home…I lost…I was lost…I was lost and I was homeless…

Maybe our fears were chained to us too tight…maybe they always had been…maybe they always will be…

Maybe no one heard my heels hitting the red carpet and me stumbling into the car…maybe he did…

When the car's door closed, making my body tremble and the car started to move, making my breath stop in my troth, I saw him between my heavy tears…He was blurry, but he was him…all of him.

I watched how he stopped in the middle of the street still looking towards me… I could only picture his chest going up and down, in and out, and his fists clenching like they always did when he was mad…

Watching how he got smaller and smaller through the rearview mirror, I wondered what would have happened if I just ordered the chauffer to stop the car. What if I would have just run in his arms? What if I would have been happy?

I didn't say anything though…

I let my tears run down my face, I let the pain eat me alive and I wondered…

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 _"Say you'll remember me  
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe  
Red lips and rosy cheeks  
Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams"_

* * *

 _ **Hey, me again!**_

 _ **I really hope you liked it. I am thinking to do another chapter with Naruto's point of view this time…I don't know. Let me know what you think. Anyway, because my computer broke down all data was erased and it will take a while to rewrite the chapter to my other story, but don't worry I'll do my best. I hope you all enjoyed the story and I can't wait to hear (read) your opinions.**_


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